


Garbage boys have Feelings

by RodiWrites



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, M/M, how do relationships work, implied krok/spinster, misfire is oblivious, someone help these boys, what are feelings, who the fuck, who will ave them from themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodiWrites/pseuds/RodiWrites
Summary: Misfire doesn't know what's up. Fulcrum might. The others have a betting pool on who the poor fucker is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a roleplay with the lovely, gifted TC <3

The face of a frowning, critical bomb invaded the space of the T.V, demanding the attention over whatever rerun was airing now. Servos crossed, he kicked at Misfire’s pede, just to make sure his focus was on him and that Misfire knew he wasn't gonna be ignored. “Okay, time to fess up. What’s been going on with you lately? ‘Cause you’ve kind of been freaking us all out. Do we need to to tie you down and take to Spinster or something?”

The flier actively managed to ignore him for a few moments, craning around as if Fulcrum was stood there by accident, even making little 'shoo' motions with his servos before he spoke. Then all he got was a groan and something akin to a pout, his concerns batted away. "Nothing! Look, I'm fine, you guys are the off ones. _Especially_ Spinster. Don't be calling me weird when the rest of you are freakzoids. I'd be even better if you moved your huge aft outta my way, yeah?"

Did Misfire recognize that expression on Fulrum's face? He should've. That was doubt. Or, more accurately, that was a solid 'I know you. I'm not buying that bs.' Fulcrum wasn't moving. "Misfire, I'm serious. Even Crankcase thinks something's up. Did...something happen on that last planet, or did you catch something, or... or I don't know. You've just been acting really strange." He loathed to admit it, but..."We're kinda _worried_ about you."

Misfire rolled his optics in an exaggerated attempt to look mature in the face of Fulcrum's faffing. It did not work. ”Yeah, well, Crankcase stole my energon treats this morning. There's a ton missing and he likes the ones with the blue bits so I'm not takin' slag from him." He folded his arms right back, giving up on trying to watch the screen, complete with another unnecessary optic roll as he huffed. "Oh, sure, a plant std. Frag off, Fulcrum."

"Why are you making this so difficult?" the dud almost groaned back at him, voice becoming clipped with frustration. He was dealing with a mechling. "I'm not trying to accuse you of something, I just--" he sighed, wiping his scowl away with a servo down his face. He slumped down down on the couch, occupying the space next to Misfire and slumping his helm back. "Look, we were just concerned about you. Can't you take that?" He said, voice losing the edge from before. "You're not exactly doing much to prove us wrong."

"Difficult?" Misfire was getting snappy by now, maroon wings hiking up defensively. "I'm not the one who barged into an innocent mech's free time to loom over him and demand to know if alright in the head. Leave hounding me to Krok, he's better at it." Ahh, slag, he felt kinda bad now, shifting uncomfortably, optics back on the screen to avoid looking at him. "I'm fine, alright? Workin' through stuff."

Fulcrum rolled his optics at the ceiling. "Don't be dramatic. I said you were acting weird, not that there was something _wrong_ with you." Lifting his helm, he looked at Misfire, even if he refused to turn around and look at him. "You usually tell me if there's something like that going on." It was less an accusation, more a statement of fact, but mostly a question of why Misfire'd keep this a secret from him now. And honestly, he was right. If there was anyone he'd confide it, it was almost always Fulcrum. He was usually the only one who the jet could be sure wouldn't blab to Krok, or anyone else for that matter. He was a solid guy, and he liked that. But this time...He wasn't too sure what was up. He sighed, more in defeat than anything else, almost curling in on himself, helm drooping as he glanced away from the prying optics of his friend.. "..I dunno what's up. I mean, I'm healthy, so that's not it, y'know, but.. My fuel pump keeps acting up. Feels...fluttery, I dunno, it's weird. Thinking straight is even harder than usual, I fraggin' stopped halfway through giving Grinlock morning tail pets and just- I dunno, sat there?" Soon as he started talking, it just gushed out. He had never had good control over his glossa

Now, Msifire had his full attention. Instead of slumped back across the couch, Fulcrum was sitting up straight now, listening, a soft furrow to his brow. "Okay," he said slowly, careful not to scare Misfire off from the conversation he only just enticed him into. So apparently some sort of bug was already out as an explanation. "Anything else? I mean, are you worried about something? 'Cause that's an unusual set of symptoms. Kind of sounds like you're nervous?" Misfire shifted uncomfortably. Ahh, slag, now Fulcrum was concerned. Fessing up had only made him more interested, not made him leave him in peace. He shifted a little, optics flicking to him briefly before back to the screen, seeing him almost...staring into him, as if trying to work out the flier's inner mechanisms through pure sight. Hey, what if he had x-ray vision? Frag, that'd be cool, he- ah, slaggit, he was talking again. "Huh? What would I be worried about, we only nearly die every second weekend. Just- chill, Crum. I'm fine."

Fulcrum squinted. So now even staring was too much for Misfire. The big sparkling. Fine. He pursed his lips at him for a second, but eventually turned away, looking at the screen as if he was watching that instead. "You're not telling me everything."

It was still awkward and weird and Primus Misfire wanted to wriggle away to his hab, but that'd make him more suspicious and the nagging loser might go get reinforcements. Misfire wasn't sure if he could deflect all of them at once, no matter his incredible lying-and-deflection skills. Like a space ninja. "Who says there's more? Nosey."

"You do, every time you try to dodge the subject without answering anything. Like right now," he said, giving Misfire's side a lazy nudge. Deflection skills like a space ninja? More like a blind turbofox. "Can't believe I'm being accused of being nosey by the mech who thinks he doesn't have to knock before he comes into my room."

"Not like you ever do anything important in there I can't see. Gonna keep secrets from me? Yeah, didn't think so. Plus, haven't walked in on you whacking off yet." Yet. He had wondered what Fulcrum's array looked like. No homo. Thought he was pretty sure nobody on the ship wasn't super gay. Not sure about Grimmy."I do important things in there! Just because you call it 'loser things' doesn't mean it's not important." Okay, no. Misfire was getting him off topic. That's exactly what he wanted. "Look, no secrets, right? Go back to telling me about your fluttering fuel pump and inability to think." He snorted, because fluttering was an interesting choice in words, wasn't it? "Almost sounds like next you're gonna be telling me about your racing spark or difficulty speaking or how your thoughts always wander back to one mech." He laughed, glancing over to the jet, but it died off as he saw him staring back at him.

_Oh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nobody wants to frag Misfire

Misfire slowly squinted in suspicion at Fulcrum. The frag? He wasn't gonna tell him all that, no way in Pits, how'd he know? The jet straightened up stiffly and pursed his lips, folding his arms back over his chest again (he'd kinda dropped them when he forgot he was trying to look mad) and cocked his helm.

"Oh yeah? What, you know the colour of my _sparkchamber_ too? Fraggin' knew you had secret powers." Fulcrum's teasing little half-smirk slowly morphed into an open-mouthed look of incredulity. Primus' sake. "Hey, I was just kidding when I said that. You mean you really--?" No. No, no, was that really it? What a thing to get worked up over. And to think that Misfire, of all mecha, might get all worked up over a crush on someone. His expression swung back around into a grin that bordered on the brink of actual laughter. "Misfire- Misfire, are you telling me _all this_ is because you have a crush?"

The jet was actually blank for a solid minute before he scowled until he could barely see, wingtips slowly rising in annoyance. The fuck? He really didn't get it, why was it funny? He didn't have a crush, he had...Dunno, maybe it was a bad side effect from the last boosters he'd syphoned? Could be. More likely thank this bullshittery. Not that someone like Fulcrum probably even used them, he sure hadn't seen him take a hit. "It's not a crush!"

The beige mech was almost worried that he might've broken Misfire with the way he stalled, stumbled upon some secretly encoded word that just switched him off. Which, actually, wouldn't be all that useless. But then he was scowling like a sparkling denied a treat, and however hard Misfire frowned at him, Fulcrum grinned just has hard right back. "It _is_ a crush." Triumphant, he turned sideways on the couch to face Misfire, pulling his pedes up and crossing them underneath himself. "So--" he nudged Misfire's shoulder, the smug grin fixed in place. "Go on. Who is it?"

"It's not! I don't get crushes, only losers get crushes, like you. I find someone cute, then wham bam bye, and I'm done. Outta there. Aright?" Fuck. He had a crush. But if that was true, then who? He didn't actually know. His thoughts drifted even more than usual, sure, but never focused on one particular mech, as far as he knew. His processor didn't...work like that, it flitted from thought to thought, mech to mech, like staying too long on one subject might bore him to death. Not that he even paid too much attention to his own thoughts. "Why the fuck would I wanna frag any of you guys? You're...you, Grim is like, frikken huge and I dunno if he can consent like that. Can he? He can...sometimes- I mean he can _talk_ , and he's not totally brain-dead. Do dinobots even want to get laid? They must, right?" Fulcrum blinked at him, quiet for a moment as his words sunk in.

"Wait, it's one of us?" All he brought up was the crush, Misfire made the logical leap that it was someone on the ship all on his own, not his fault. He rocked back and forth, digging himself into his seat as he thought. He was in it for the long run now, and they were gonna whittle it down to whichever poor sod Misfire's spark was all aflutter about because they really had nothing better to do. "Ooookay, so if we're ignoring Grimlock then... Ah! Krok!" He nodded to the mech who just walked through the door. "Is it Krok?" Their supposed captain squinted a little down at the pair on the couch. "It better not be me. Whatever you two are doing, I want no part in it," He knew better than to get involved, to disentangle himself immediately and leave was the automatic response, picked up from months of experience.

"Mech's got a crush is what they're doing," Crankcase called from across the room, and boy, did that make Krok stop, optics scrunching up further as they flicked between the two. That was almost curiosity on his drained face. Almost.

 

“...If you two frag, I don’t want to hear about it.”

 

Fulcrum flopped back into his seat. So much for that. Well, he assumed it was the person Misfire spent the most time with, and therefore wanted to be around. That was logical, right? Who else would he hang out with enough to get a crush on? He was excluding himself, Misfire only hung around him to get him into trouble or use him as a shield for something or other. He didn't really...talk to anyone else, none of them did. Except Krok, to his dead squad. Creepy. Misfire twisted in his seat to see Krok coming through, wiggling his fingers in a kind-of wave. He wasn't sure if he liked his wave yet, might stick to regular waving, but that was also boring. Who the fuck waved anyway? He wasn't some politician. He quickly sat on his servo.

"Yeah, no, I'd rather electrocute my own cables than hook up with Krok." Primus, no. Ew. He didn't wanna imagine smooching Krok. Aw frag, now he was. His insides rusted a little and his fuel pump twisted. Though, Krok's comment about Fulcrum and himself actually made him laugh, splitting his face into a wide grin. "Fuck no. I mean, I'm _sure_ you're great in berth and all, and the chin really is awesome, but no way in Pits could I do that to myself. I respect my frame." Sometimes.

"Thanks," Fulcrum deadpanned, rolling his optics. "I'll try not to be too broken up about that." Krok sure wasn’t about his rejection. He actually looked pretty relieved, tipping his can of engex towards Misfire and nodding his helm in a little cheer that said ‘Right back at you.’ But, come on, he was totally fraggable! Okay, no he wasn't, but that wasn't the point. They were trying to figure out Misfire's inner workings, not is own insecurities. He pressed his palms onto the couch, leaning forward. "Sooo, Crankcase then?" That got a genuine shudder out of the interrogated maroon mech, face twisting in mild disgust. "No. No, no. Sorry, Cranker, not my type. I like 'em...taller, you feel? Grow a few feet an' flash me a few smiles. Plus, he's got his squishy organic boo to chase after, right?" Crankcase too seemed nothing but pleased with his own rejection, grunting a little as he settled back down in his seat, turning it away from them. At least that meant he wasn't going to be involved in more shenanigans.

"I dunno, Fulcrum-" Misfire turned to look back at him, and found himself actually looking, not just glancing over him like usual. Was he good looking? His spark wasn't calming down, his processor was still all muddly and hey, he actually had a nice nose too, and that jawline was pretty sweet and it was cute how concerned he was. It was...actually pretty nice to have that kind of attention. But naw, it was just 'cause they were all bored stiff. And If he found Fulcrum attractive, or any of them, he was damn sure he would've noticed before now. Anyway, that sort of attention for ages? That'd be super claustrophobic, and-

 

“You mean it’s Spinster?”


End file.
